


Right to Lose Control

by prosopopeya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Panty Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Four Seasons Total Landscaping, Hand Jobs, Kink Discovery, M/M, Misunderstandings, Praise Kink, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Slow Dancing, kink discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosopopeya/pseuds/prosopopeya
Summary: It starts innocently enough. Dean wants to buy some new porn, that's all. And a butt plug. Innocent things. He's, maybe, a little, excited. Nervous, too, and it all jangles around inside of him, making him itchy and jumpy and twitchy in a way that's almost got him feeling drunk.The Fantasy Island Adult Toy Store has been down the block from Winchester Total Landscaping for a while now, and he's been in there before (duh). But there's a new owner now, and the Google reviews are pretty good. Hey--support local businesses, right? Maybe the guy'll need Dean to mow his lawn, which is a thought that has Dean almost (almost, thanks) nervously giggling to himself as he steps inside.And thus begins the Sex Education of Dean Winchester.___A Four Seasons Total Landscaping/Fantasy Island Bookshop AU, ft. memories of Destivember, accidental press conferences, and kink.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 28
Kudos: 160
Collections: Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Reunion





	Right to Lose Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lawful_feral_merit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawful_feral_merit/gifts).



> My entry for the Profound Bond Gift Exchange! The theme was Reunion. I did take some liberties with the Fantasy Island Adult Bookstore and turned it into a regular adult toy store. 
> 
> Merit, I hope you enjoy the AU with D/s vibes and a tiny bit of found family on the side! Please imagine the scenes I couldn't write, which largely consist of Total Landscaping/Fantasy Island family dinners, to which Crowley is not invited, but he turns up anyway.
> 
> Thank you to marbleflan@tumblr for all the invaluable help as always, and for spending days searching for just the right 90s song with me!

It starts innocently enough. Dean wants to buy new porn, that's all. And a butt plug. Innocent things. Casual purchases for a guy who's recently admitted to himself and everyone else that he's into dudes, so he's free to indulge in the things he'd have shied away from before. No, he's out now. Charlie dragged him to a gay club, and Sam has a pride bumper sticker that Dean hates on principle for ruining his car, but his car's already ruined for being what it is, so.

It's a very regular Thursday afternoon, and Dean's going to buy some things to start exploring a new area of his life, and he's, maybe, a little, excited. Nervous, too, and it all jangles around inside of him, making him itchy and jumpy and twitchy in a way that's got him feeling almost drunk.

The Fantasy Island Adult Store has been down the block from his landscaping business for a while now, and he's been in there before (duh), but the old owner was a major creep, and Dean wasn't interested in being skeeved on while he browsed skeevy porn. But there's a new owner now, and the Google reviews are pretty good. Hey--support local businesses, right? Maybe the guy'll need Dean to mow his lawn, which is a thought that has Dean almost ( _almost_ , thanks) nervously giggling to himself as he steps inside.

It's bright, brighter than before, and the long, narrow store has been sectioned off by white shelves, all the better to show off the neon pink dildos, he guesses. Like, that's probably actually the case; that makes sense from a purely logical level and also from the level that has Dean staring at them, knowing full well he's not ready to take that step yet, but also, y'know. Thinking about it.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

Dean missed the person working here because of the dildos, yes, but also because he's in a corner off to the side, surrounded by cardboard boxes. There's dust smudged on his nose, and his hair has fallen over his forehead, and his eyes--a bright, piercing blue--look out from underneath with a steady, almost unblinking gaze.

The guy tilts his head, squints. "Are you okay?"

Right. Words. People use them.

"Um, hi. Yeah, sorry." He clears his throat and opens his hand, has a full second to worry if it's weirdly sweaty as he starts to extend it, has another second to wonder if he could get away with wiping it on his pants at this point, and then it's all over because the guy is shaking his hand, still looking confused. "I'm Dean. Winchester. Over at Winchester Total Landscaping?"

He looks from Dean's eyes to their hands still linked together and back up, and Dean has a full-body panic over whether or not people actually still shake hands anymore before the guy's shoulders drop, and he stands up a little straighter.

"Castiel Milton."

Dean nods a beat too long, holds Castiel's a beat too long, until he lets go finally.

"Heard this place had a new boss." He nods at Castiel, eyes from those blue eyes to his throat to his shirt to his slacks and back up again. "Figured I'd come introduce myself. Since we're neighbors and all." Dean cuts off what feels like the start of a ramble, but Castiel's still just staring, and the silence touches on uncomfortable before Castiel speaks finally.

"You've done that."

Dean blinks and shifts his weight on his feet. "Right. I guess I did." So, seems like this isn't going very well. Maybe he'll have to cross this place off his list again.

Castiel doesn't move, doesn't say anything else, for another few seconds before he starts picking his way out from behind the boxes, one hand holding his tie in place, until he frees himself and stands in front of Dean.

"I'm sorry; I've been busy with settling in." He gestures at the boxes behind him and turns back to Dean. "I appreciate the welcome."

Dean's nerves haven't done much settling down; if anything, he's just confused now along with everything else, and he finds himself wishing Castiel wasn't a hot guy because how is he supposed to transition this into picking out sex toys without this getting more weird than it already is?

"Sure," Dean says, mostly, trying for easy and nonchalant but only sorta managing to slap a veneer on top of what he actually sounds like. "You, uh. Been in this business long?"

"Oh, um." He glances around, a touch self-conscious, but then it's gone again. "No. This was my brother's idea. He thinks he has a sense of humor."

"And it would be funny because... you're a prude?" he ventures, trying to be funny too, but Castiel just narrows his eyes.

"No, I'm not a prude. I believe that it's important to understand your body and that people should be educated in how to pleasure themselves."

What is that? Strike two? Strike three? Dean nods, fumbling. "Right. My bad."

Unexpectedly, Castiel sighs. "It's funny because he thinks I'm awkward with people."

Oh. _Oh_. Yeah, Castiel's definitely the winner of Most Awkward Person in the Room, and Dean's just bouncing along, having to suffer through it all, through no fault of his own. He's still definitely the cool one here.

"Your bedside manner could use a little work." He grins and gives Castiel a big wink, but Castiel only blinks at him until Dean shakes it off. "You'll get the hang of it. Customer service voice is weird at first, but it's not too bad. Though usually I'm just talking to people about their dead grass, and not..." He gestures vaguely at the nearest shelf, which happens to be butt plugs. "You know, their ass."

He sneaks another glance, another hesitant smile, but still nothing, just those eyes staring straight through him. Dean feels like he's being examined, weighed and measured, like someone's turning over all the thoughts in his head. It's heavy and strange and invasive, and he feels itchy again under the collar, hot and twitchy still. He's already half-forgotten why he came in here in the first place.

"Thank you. How is your business doing?"

"Oh, we're trucking along; we've been around for ages. It's my dad's business, was my grandad's before that. I've been mowing grass since I was strong enough to push the thing."

Castiel's lips thin, but then he nods and squares his shoulders. "I look forward to being your neighbor. If you don't mind, I have more unpacking to do."

Oh. Dean opens his mouth but then lets it close again, debates just making his exit now and saving face; again, though, he isn't fast enough.

"Unless--" Castiel's staring at him again, something thoughtful swirling around in his eyes now, and he takes a small step forward. Dean resists the urge to step back. "Can I help you with something?"

He should've aborted mission about 15 minutes of intense staring ago because now he has to say out loud to his new neighbor things that he's only just barely begun to say out loud. But then again, Castiel's a stranger; Dean doesn't have to save face with him because he literally is getting to know Dean's face _right now_. There's a clean slate here, and that jumpy feeling is back, like he's about to leap out of a plane (or get on a plane at all).

"Well." He reaches around for a way to say it without having to say, like, _it_. "I've experimented some with--" He steps closer to the aisle of butt plugs, sneaking a glance over his shoulder at Castiel. "But I was looking to, y'know. Up my game."

"I see." Suddenly, Castiel is beside him, but he's looking at the options, his eyes moving quickly. "'Up' in what way? Sensation? Size?" He lifts an eyebrow at Dean. "Both?"

And that's how the Sex Education of Dean Winchester starts: on accident and sexily. He'd walked in here expecting maybe to make some polite conversation and buy some toys, but instead, Castiel asks him questions, point-blank and matter-of-fact, watching as Dean stumbles through his answers.

What's Dean's experience level? What kinds of things does he like? What is he willing to try? Dean's never had a conversation this long and this detailed about sex in his life, not even with the people he's had sex with, which is maybe shameful but usually, Dean was tumbling in and out of someone's bed too fast to have any kind of conversation beyond whatever seemed like a good idea at the time.

He winds up with a training kit and a vibrating butt plug and no relief for the buzzing just under his skin. Castiel's just doing his job--he's a salesman; this is what he does--but he'd taken everything Dean said seriously, really rolled it around in his head, and Dean walks away feeling far more examined, far more opened up, than he thinks these toys will do for him.

**+**

Later, when he's trying them out, he thinks about Castiel's hands as he'd plucked things off the shelf for him.

**+**

Their mailman is shit, and Dean winds up with a stack of Castiel's mail.

He doesn't need to walk it over; Kevin could do that, probably _should_ do that, front desk guy and all, but it's a quiet afternoon, and maybe Dean wants to go for a walk. Maybe Dean wants to be neighborly. They'd started something, hadn't they? A friendly little something-or-other?

There's a bell on the door now, and it rings as he steps inside. There aren't any boxes anymore, and there's a proper register, a TV up on the wall, and Castiel picks his head up from where he'd been resting it on his hand to glance at the door. He sits up straighter when he sees Dean.

"Dean. Hello."

Dean holds up the mail and gives it a little shake. "Got some stuff for you. Probably won't be the last time."

"Oh, yes. I got some mail for the crematorium the other day." Castiel looks less interested as he takes the mail from Dean, flipping through it slowly.

"So, you met Crowley, huh?" Dean asks, and he grins when Castiel wrinkles his nose in response. "Well, don't worry. His bark's worse than his bite."

"I prefer biting," Castiel murmurs, just says it just like that, and it takes Dean a few seconds to realize that's Castiel-speak for a joke. He thinks. He's pretty sure. He forces a laugh anyway, and Castiel's mouth twitches with a smile, so he thinks he was right. The trouble is though, now he's thinking about Castiel and his mouth, which is bad because he was already thinking about Castiel and his hands. Maybe it's just that he's recently come out and so it's all new and shiny to think about dudes this freely, this easily.

Probably, though, he should stop thinking about sex. At least until he's done having a regular, human conversation.

"How's business so far?"

Castiel shrugs. "It was busy the first few weeks after we opened, but has quieted down some since. I've been looking at expanding my online presence."

"That's probably a good idea. I'd offer some advice, but I got this kid, Kevin--well, he's in college, but--he handles all that stuff for us."

"So, your advice is to hire 'some kid'?" Castiel's smiling now, a real one, and Dean thinks it looks good on him.

"I guess so, yeah." Dean smiles back. The moment hangs in the air, and then Castiel tilts his head.

"Would you like to see the new shipment that just came in?"

That's how Dean winds up in the DVD section with Castiel showing him the latest, strangest movies that have come in, and Dean makes fun of all the punny titles, and he combs through the parody section and plucks out the Pirates one. Y'know, because it's a classic.

"How did your other purchases go?" Castiel asks as he rings Dean up. Dean freezes, but Castiel is just going through the motions, not looking at him, sliding Dean's card through the machine.

"Fine." His ears are going pink, maybe, probably, and he stops because he doesn't trust himself to go into more detail than that. But then Castiel stops, eyebrow raised, and looks at him with that same unblinking stare. He looks like a goddamn tax accountant with his jacket and his tie, mismatched with the wall of lube and novelty sexy candy behind him, but somehow Dean feels something--some kind of static electricity when Castiel meets his gaze.

"'Fine'? That's not usually the word you want to hear when talking about how something made you feel." He sets down the bag, and Dean watches, feeling caught. "Did you not like it?"

He swallows through a lump in his throat and shifts his weight, and Castiel's eyes flick over him, then he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to answer if you're uncomfortable. I just appreciate feedback; if something doesn't work for someone, I like to know why."

Sure, yeah, okay, that makes sense. Perfectly logical business reason. Words that sound reasonable. Castiel wants some customer feedback, and that's a good thing to give, right? Dean is _helping_ , and not just 1) strangely compelled to tell Castiel about his sexy feelings because he wants to tell Castiel, specifically, about his sexy feelings, or 2) enjoying exploring himself more, and maybe wanting to talk about it with someone, and maybe he doesn't really have a friend in his life who would qualify for the "let's talk about our masturbation habits" category of friendship. He talks about porn with Charlie, sure; they talk about their hookups, absolutely. But there's a line, okay?

"No, no," he says, maybe a little too quickly, and he has to take a breath and make himself exhale before he keeps going. "No, it's okay. I just didn't think you'd want to like. _Know_ know."

Castiel makes a motion for Dean to continue, so he bites his lip, and then he does, and he realizes just how much he has been wanting to talk about this after all. The uncertainty when it'd been uncomfortable at first; the burn, how he wasn't sure if he liked it or didn't like it; how he'd kept adding more lube like Castiel had said, but at a certain point, he stopped being able to hold things very well. How he's kept exploring, kept testing his limits.

Somehow, he's going into graphic detail of his past few weeks of masturbation sessions, but it isn't necessarily like, dirty talk or anything, and Castiel doesn't blush, doesn't blink. He nods through it all and winds up selling Dean some anal beads too, and Dean has another moment to appreciate Castiel's salesmanship, but he isn't mad about it.

**+**

This time, when he tries out the beads, his mind wanders to what he'll tell Castiel when he swings back by.

**+**

Eventually, Dean's going to wind up buying out the whole shop. He's aware of this.

The bell rings as Dean steps inside, bright and welcoming, and his eyes sweep the aisles quickly for any signs of Cas. Somewhere back there after his fourth or fifth visit, he'd stopped with the pretense of his full name. Cas knows what size plug Dean is currently taking up his ass and that he's curious about prostate stuff, so the "tiel" just feels too formal at this point.

None of that has anything to do with how when he _is_ trying this stuff out, he has to work a little harder not to hear Cas's voice in his head, commenting on everything as it happens. Or how he winds up buying some porn just because he needs new, different sounds to occupy his mind, keep himself focused on the task at hand.

"You're back." Claire sits behind the cash register, feet propped up on the counter. He thinks Cas _did_ take his advice about hiring some kid. Sometime after that, Claire had turned up, all leather jackets and braided hair, and she'd had Dean's number from the jump. "So soon? Forget something last time?"

"You know how stores work, right?" Dean shoots back, even though he knows that she knows that he thinks Cas is hot. He knows she knows that he's maybe, a little bit, sorta addicted to this weird pseudo-friendship, but he doesn't think that Cas knows, and would she tell him? That, Dean doesn't know.

She lifts her eyebrows, presses her lips together. "Mm. Do you? 'Cause if you're looking for something to buy," she gestures to the shelves, "and if you're just looking for Cas, he's in the back. You have time to make it look like you're here for totally regular reasons."

"I hate you."

"I know." She turns the smile up brighter, just to rub it in he thinks, and then she nods down the hall. "We did get some new stuff in. Mostly books, which are admittedly pretty cool."

Dean starts in that direction when Claire sets her feet down and leans onto the counter, smiling viciously.

"I'll let him know you're here. Again."

Ultimately, he decides that she wouldn't tell Cas, if only so she can keep torturing him.

He drifts to the books because Claire mentioned it. It's not a very big section, and maybe not the most thrilling, at least not to Dean. Self-help this, 101 that. Most of it earns a big ol' yawn from Dean, but then he spots the "Just In" sign, and underneath that is a shelf full of graphic novels, comic books, and that has Dean drifting closer.

On the cover of one is a guy, hands tied behind his back, and he's on his knees wearing a collar with a leash reaching out of frame, and Dean doesn't know why he's drawn to it--just kidding, he does--but he's still standing there when he hears Cas come up behind him, and he jerks away.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

Cas's eyes move from Dean to the book and linger for a moment before he adjusts his attention, turning those eyes back on Dean, and leaving Dean to realize that he's here because he's satisfying some kind of an addiction. Normal people would maybe use the word "crush," and that's a fine enough word he guesses, but it doesn't come close to the way something in him flares up when Cas looks at him, or the way something else quiets down, like he's been waiting all day for this and can breathe easy now that he has it.

"That's a good book," Cas says, and he's watching Dean as he does it. He reaches past him, his body close enough that Dean feels the heat of him but doesn't actually feel him, and he picks the book up off the shelf. "If this interests you," he starts, then holds the book out to him, "I have a few other recommendations."

And that's how Dean moves from Sex Education 101: Learning the Body to Sex Education 102: Exploring the Mind.

**+**

"What do you mean, there are different ways to choke someone?" Dean asks around a mouthful of food, half-glancing around him as he leans in toward Cas. "Isn't it all coming from the same place?" He swallows and then gestures to his throat.

They do this now, sometimes, when Dean's day keeps him at the office, and Benny's off on a job, and Kevin pointedly reminds Dean that he's vegan and no, he doesn't want to go to the cheeseburger place down the block. Usually, that meant Dean would eat by himself, but now he swings by Cas's, and Dean spends the 10-minute walk trying to decide if Cas's eyes really lit up or if Dean just imagined it.

"Erotic asphyxiation is always risky, but you should never squeeze someone's windpipe." Cas eats like a bird, Dean's learned, picking over his food and never finishing anything all the way, which means Dean feels secure enough to gesture at his fries, eyebrow raised. Cas nods and nudges them closer.

"What're you supposed to squeeze instead?"

Dean pops a fry into his mouth and watches Cas flex his hands in front of him for a moment before he picks up his burger and takes a small bite. He chews slowly, then swallows, and Dean's eyes track the movement. It isn't like he's waiting for the answer, frozen, his hands still on the table, another fry between his fingers, until Cas speaks. It isn't like that at all.

Cas's eyes flick up to him, and then he wipes his fingers on his napkin.

"The carotid arteries are on either side of the windpipe." Slowly, Cas's hand reaches out between them, and Dean watches it until his eyes almost cross, and then he feels the gentle press of Cas's fingers against his neck. He's barely touching him, just a hint of skin on skin, so it's definitely all in Dean's head when he feels his pulse twitch against his touch. "Here."

His hand is gone, and Dean's mouth is dry; he quickly reaches for his milkshake, which doesn't actually make his throat feel any less thick.

"Of course, it's dangerous to affect the blood supply to the brain. That's why it's important to establish boundaries first, and why I prefer to make sure my partner can still vocalize a response."

Obviously, they've talked about Dean's experiences with this or that; they've talked about things Dean's curious about, things he hasn't had a chance to try and isn't sure he'd like, but he's at a stage in his life when he just sorta wants to try it all, sample the dude buffet that he's only had a few nibbles of so far. Obviously, Dean knows that Cas knows a lot about this stuff, but somehow, they've never managed to talk about Cas's experiences--with any of it, with anyone. Dean only has a vague impression that he's not straight, but only through things Cas has half-said; and he could always just like pegging, Dean has reminded himself so often that it stopped being a reminder and almost became a weird sort of half-fantasy. Anyway.

 _Anyway_ , this is the first time Cas has really started talking about things he's maybe specifically into, though he didn't say that either, did he?

"So, you do the-- You're the--" Come on, Winchester. "You're the one doing the..." He trails off and instead holds up his hand, curled around an imaginary throat, and he immediately wishes for Scotty to beam him to another planet.

Cas looks up, face blank, eyes round, and then something twitches at the corner of his mouth. "Usually. I'm not fond of the feeling myself, but I like the sense of trust that comes from it, knowing that I'm giving someone something they want, and they're trusting me to take care of them."

Sure, sure. Great. Smile and nod. Dean nods, but he's not sure he smiles as he tries to process that because, see, they haven't gone into detail about what it is that Cas likes, but Dean is maybe starting to piece some things together. If only based on Cas's book recs.

"That's like in that last book you showed me," Dean mumbles to Cas's tie because he isn't sure he wants to look him in the eye for this, not when Dean's thinking his arteries are working a little too hard to get blood into his face area. "That trust stuff."

"You mean in the context of BDSM?" he asks, head tilted, lips still quirked, and Dean feels himself turn the slightest bit redder as he nods. "I suppose. I wouldn't say that particular feeling is exclusive to that, though. Have you been with someone that you trusted enough to completely let go?"

Dean goes red again somehow, impossibly, but before he slips too far into a memory, Cas is leaning into his eye line with a soft smile.

"Yes, then?"

He could drop this. He could clear his throat, wave the waiter down, get their check and roll out of here. But--there's a part of him that's burning up to talk about all this, and sure, he has Charlie, but there are some things that he doesn't really want his pseudo-sister's advice on.

And Cas knows--everything, it feels like, and he asks Dean questions, and he listens to him, and he pushes Dean to try new things, and Dean _likes_ talking to him about it all. He _likes_ having someone he trusts enough to dump all this stuff onto. And maybe he likes that it's Cas.

But that's probably not the answer Cas is looking for, and it's also not the one that Dean thought of a second ago.

"Rhonda Hurley."

Cas's eyebrows lift, and his smile slips away, surprised maybe as Dean thinks back on something he hasn't thought too hard about in a long time.

"She made me try on her panties this one time, and I-- I liked it." Dean glances up at Cas's face, but it's blank, his eyes round and watchful again. "So we did it a few more times after that. I'd wear 'em to school sometimes, too."

"What did you like about it? How it made you feel, or how it made her feel?"

He thinks of Rhonda smiling down at him, her hand in his hair, pulling his head back, exposing his throat, holding him in place as she drags her fingers over the outline of his cock, and he swallows hard.

"Both? The fabric was, y'know. Slippy. It felt good, but--she--she liked it too. It wound her up."

"And what made you trust her?" Cas's head is tilted, his eyes serious, and he's leaning forward too. Their heads are close as they talk quietly off in the corner of the burger joint, the lunch crowd moving in waves all around them. And Dean's just talking about his panty kink, casual, as Cas's eyes burn a hole into him, and he's loving every goddamn second of it, even if he's squirming in his seat for a mix of all sorts of reasons, good and bad.

"She didn't--" He squeezes his hand around his wrist and tries again. "She didn't make fun of me, y'know? Just because I liked how it felt, it didn't mean anything. It was just this--this thing, like she liked it when I played with her nipples."

"You mean she didn't question your masculinity," he ventures, and when Dean looks up, he tilts his head and adds, "or your sexuality. She could be trusted with this interest that other people wouldn't have seen the same way. And you enjoyed indulging in it because you knew she liked it too, knowing how good it felt for you."

Dean frowns, fidgeting again, but rooted to his seat at the same time. "What are you, a sexy Dr. Phil?" he asks, and Cas snorts.

"No. Just familiar enough with this sort of scenario."

But it turns out it's time to get back to work, and Dean doesn't get to ask about what other scenarios Cas knows or doesn't know, or which ones he might like to know, and if he'd like to get to know them with Dean sometime, maybe.

**+**

One morning, Kevin calls him in a panic. It's not that uncommon for Kevin to be panicked, but usually, he breathes into his paper bag and everyone goes on with their day. Usually, it's about calc class or some fender bender and he's not sure how to break it to his mom, and usually, it's not Dean he calls.

But Kevin calls because he'd been half-asleep, drooling on his history book, and he'd gone along with what he'd thought was a prank call, but now there are people trying to set up a meeting about how to stage this press conference for President Shurley, and Kevin doesn't think it's a prank call after all.

**+**

It's a chilly Saturday morning, and Dean's huddled against the cold with Kevin and Benny, watching but not believing as everything unfolds just the way they'd talked about in their meetings. The scaffolding. The cameras. The backdrop.

"Really wish we'd have painted that wall last summer," Dean mutters under his breath.

Charlie shows up, and Sam; Cas and Claire come over from the shop, and even Crowley drifts over, and they spend the morning watching the shitshow.

"I can't believe they went through with it," Benny says, disbelieving, as Marv Whats-his-name screams from his podium about the election results.

"Saving face." Crowley sips from his coffee cup. "They couldn't back out once they'd gotten this far. Kevin, you little minx. Couldn't have done it better myself."

"I didn't mean to." Kevin sounds weak, and Sam reaches out to pat his shoulder.

"It's okay, Kev. We know."

Charlie chews on her lip, then leans closer to Dean, speaking out of the corner of her mouth so Kevin won't hear. "You've gotta find a way to spin this."

Dean, for his part, is definitely paying attention to this catastrophic moment in this catastrophic year, but Cas is also wearing a winter coat, dark blue with stupid wooden toggles, and a knit woolen hat that pushes his hair into his eyes, and he can't stop glancing over at him until Claire catches him one time and makes a show of gagging at him. He redirects his attention.

"Spin it? What do you mean?"

**+**

Merch. She meant merch. Now the back of their office is stacked high with cardboard boxes full of shirts and mugs plastered with punny jokes, and Charlie works for him running their new online store, which has really been the cherry on top of a roller coaster couple of months. Was there a point where the people taking selfies on his sidewalk every day got to be annoying? Yes. Was there also a moment or two when Dean enjoyed ducking into the frame? Also yes.

So, Dean's basically a celebrity now, at least in this zip code, which is great. It's cool. It's no pressure at all.

"I thought you weren't going to go?" Sam asks as Dean turns away from the calendar on the fridge. It'd been months ago that Charlie had written in the date of his high school reunion and scribbled stupid doodles all around it.

"I wasn't." Dean goes back to the important thing, which is preparing dinner, and not talking about this.

"So... Don't."

Sam pops a string bean in his mouth, and Dean gives him a disgusted look. One, that vegetable hasn't even been cooked yet, so that's gross. Two, he wishes he could take Sam's advice and move on. Dean turns his back on him and starts cooking, and Sam must spend the next few minutes interpreting the silence because he stands beside him and sets the salad bowl down.

"So... Go? Dean, it's just a reunion. If you wanna go, go. If you don't, at least half the class won't be there either."

Dean could keep throwing Sam the cold shoulder, but he also won't let it go, he can tell, and Dean just wants to eat in peace because it's burger night and he deserves that.

"Look. I'm famous now, Sam." Sam snorts, but Dean presses on. "So I wanna go, you know, for the business."

"I think you mean 'for the 'gram.'"

Dean stops and turns, holding a finger up. "Never say that to me again. You almost lost burger privileges."

Sam rolls his eyes, grinning, pleased with himself. "So _go_ then. Bask in it. Sell some stickers."

"I can't." Dean risks a sideways glance. "I don't have a date."

Sam tosses his hands up, actually maybe a little irritated now. "Is _that_ all?" Before Dean can reply though, Sam's reaching for Dean's phone on the counter.

"What are you doing?"

"Asking Cas for you."

Unfortunately for Dean, Sam knows his unlock code, so that's a highly likely scenario; also unfortunately for Dean, he and Cas were texting about the new floggers that Cas got in stock, and Dean was asking about the ins-and-outs of propper flogger use and what it feels like to get hit with leather vs. rope vs. crops because maybe he'd like to find out. Sam doesn't need to find that out about Dean, though, so he abandons the burgers and dives for his phone. Sam is eight feet tall, so Dean could lose this fight, but Sam also has an appreciation for hot stoves, so he gives up, and Dean snatches his phone back.

"I don't need your help!"

"Don't you?" Sam's smirking, again, and Dean debates actually revoking burger privileges.

"Alright, shut up. If you're not going to help me, you're not going to eat."

Sam does let it drop, thank God, but Dean's brain doesn't.

**+**

It's a sign. That's it.

It's two days later; it's raining, and the office is quiet, just Kevin with his headphones on clicking away on his computer, and Dean's stuck doing office management shit that he usually leaves for Benny, but Benny's out with a cold.

When Cas comes in, he tugs his coat down off his head and shakes his hands, wipes his feet on the rug in front of the door, but a drop of rain slides off his nose, and his hair is wet and plastered against his forehead. He nods at Kevin, but Kevin only looked up to make sure he didn't need to do anything; he's already back to coding or English or whatever.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey."

Okay, alright. Okay. He doesn't need to ask Cas anything; Sam had been joking around, and maybe Sam had been right, but Dean doesn't have to acknowledge that if he doesn't want to. But maybe he wants to, and that means he needs to ask. That's all. Dean's asked lots of people out on dates before.

Most of them didn't leave his heart racing, though, not like this.

Cas pulls a stack of mail out of his inner coat pocket and holds it out to Dean, who robotically takes it, and robotically starts shuffling through it, not really seeing things, until he _sees_ it.

_Don't forget! A Reunion Under the Stars!_

He pauses, staring down at the little reminder postcard. He'd never bothered updating his address with the alumni committee or whatever, and everyone knows he's still running this place, so all these letters have been coming through here, and it's a goddamned sign.

The rain pours outside, and Kevin's clacking away, but Dean only hears his heartbeat and the train of thoughts in his head getting stuck on the tracks.

"Dean--" Cas starts, just as Dean says:

"You wanna come with me?"

He holds up the reminder slip, and Cas stares at it, mouth still half-open in whatever he was half-about to say.

"I mean, I know it's--it's probably going to be boring and stupid, but so was high school, and if it's really bad then we can duck out of there."

Dean cuts himself off before the rambling can go on, but also because Cas's face is doing something weird, shifting through a range of emotions as he looks down at the card, and Dean thinks that he maybe did actually blow this one by asking someone on one of the stupidest first dates of all time.

"I'll be there," Cas says finally, and Dean's face lights up with a grin that hurts his cheeks, and that's not the coolest reaction he could've had, but he's not mad about it.

**+**

Dean's heart is already doing double-time in his chest when he picks Cas up. Cas always wears a suit and a tie, so Dean's surprised when he comes out in a formal looking grown-up sweater, with the tie poking out underneath. Dean spends the drive trying not to think about taking that tie between his fingers. Or having Cas tie his wrists together with it? He spends so long with that thought that he almost misses the light turning green.

His heart's doing triple-time when they get into the place and Dean's thinking about spending the evening with Cas on his arm and people asking him about the press conference, which has become one of his favorite stories to tell. They get up to the table with the nametags splayed out, and Dean nods at Becky.

"Hi, Dean. How's your brother?" she asks with a disturbingly wicked grin that has Dean frowning deeply as she scans the table for his nametag. He starts to reach for it, but Becky doesn't stop; she keeps scanning until she picks up another tag, one that has Dean's heart halting in its rhythm and maybe starting to move in reverse, actually.

"Here you go. Castiel, I couldn't believe it when I read the news. Do you really own that sex shop? What happened to, you know, all the church stuff?"

Cas takes his badge from Becky, and when he realizes Dean isn't moving, he takes Dean's too.

"I suppose it's doing fine. Thank you, Becky."

He doesn't look at Dean as he heads inside, and Dean has to walk a little faster to catch up to him where he's stopped in front of some display, pictures and trophies, whatever, but Dean can't see anything other than Cas.

"You--" he starts, but finds he doesn't have anything else to say.

"No," Cas says, eyes on the display, and he nods, " _that's_ you. And that too." The pictures, it turns out, are of the wrestling team, and basketball, and laughing at prom, years and years ago. He looks at them now with Cas's eyes, with the eyes that he'd wanted people to see him with then, and he feels something icy settle over him.

"You were popular. I was one of the weird kids whose parents almost didn't let him take health class because it was too ungodly." Cas turns to him with a sad smile, something that doesn't reach his eyes, and that icy feeling grips tighter.

"Cas..." He trails off and half-wonders if he should just give this up now, just let this all end, leave Cas to his reunion, but Cas isn't looking at him like he's pissed. He's hurt, sure, but who wouldn't be hurt to be forgotten; more importantly, Dean realizes Cas has been dealing with this for months now. He hasn't run away; if anything, he got closer.

"I'm going to get us something to drink," Cas says, and hesitates, and reaches up to touch Dean's arm, and Dean guesses he's forgiven. Dean guesses Cas is into him too, really, actually; Dean guesses maybe this is something of a bigger story than he realizes. He guesses a lot of things as he stands there, feeling lost, feeling sick as he looks at the pictures of himself from what feels like a lifetime ago. He can't stand it anymore and moves to the next case, which seems to be yearbook pictures over the years blown up big.

The last case had been sports. This one is other kinds of clubs--theater, newspaper, something called Key Club, one called Green Club.

Cas reappears, but Dean's eyes are still on the pictures, moving from one to the other.

"You're in a lot of these," Dean says softly.

Cas looks them over, still holding both their drinks. "It was better than going home. I could get out of evening services if I had an academic excuse."

Dean wishes he could say that he remembered Cas now, but he doesn't. He's looking at pictures of him, skinny and with darker circles under his eyes, still a shock of rumpled hair, still dressed neat as a pin. Dean tries to remember a skinny kid with a religious reputation, but he's got nothing, but then, huge chunks of his high school experience are blank spots, smudges where memories used to be.

"I always wanted to join the anime club," Dean blurts, which is not the actual heart of what he's feeling, but it's pretty close.

Cas tilts his head, and even before he says it, Dean can feel the assumptions starting. "Why didn't you?" Was Dean too cool? Was nerdy shit too beneath him?

It's a simple question with a simple answer, but it's too hard to say it, it turns out.

"I had to be home in time to fix dinner for Sam most nights," he starts, eyes on the glass, not seeing. "Worked my ass off trying to keep my dad's business together when he was too drunk to keep his orders straight. I almost had to repeat sophomore year because I missed so many days."

Cas is quiet, and Dean appreciates that; he needs to rally a bit before he turns his head to find what he expected--Cas, with soft eyes and a pained expression--but it's still nice to see it anyway.

"I always wanted--" Dean falters, then gestures to the display, to the pictures of Cas smiling, relaxed, easy. Cas looks over it again, and Dean wonders if it's his turn now, if he's seeing himself the way Dean's seeing him. "What's a Key Club?" he asks, just to see Cas smile, just a little, and he does, turning to Dean, something dark in his eyes still.

"Community service."

"Oh." Dean nods, pursing his lips, and looks sideways at Cas. "Dweeb."

Cas's smile gets a little bigger, a little less haunted, and Dean's does too.

**+**

Cas isn't much of a dancer except for when Dean groans and rolls his eyes; then he suddenly wants to keep Dean on the dance floor while he bounces around to "Wannabe."

"I'm never taking you near a dance floor again," Dean gripes when the song winds down, and Cas grins, slightly out of breath. They both realize at the same time that the next song is a slow one, and Dean wonders if the purpose of these reunions is to make you feel like you're an awkward, idiot sixteen-year-old again, because if so, A+ job.

It's been twenty years since Dean played out this scene last: smiling hesitantly at each other, soft at first, but when Dean half-clears his throat and gestures, and Cas half-nods and steps closer, something giddy takes over because it's silly, right? They're grown-ass men who talk about their sex lives (well, Dean's) on a regular basis, but they're breathless as they step into each other's space and settle hands on hips.

"I've never done this with a guy before," Dean realizes out loud, as the strangeness and newness and wonderment of it steals through him because sure, yeah, he's been out, but somehow he keeps finding new things, new ways to be.

"The Education of Dean Winchester continues." Cas's voice is a low rumble, and it vibrates through Dean, or maybe that's the song. Dean didn't recognize it at first (which he considers a point of pride), and they've only started to find some kind of sway when the lyrics start, and their eyes lock.

_What's it gonna be? 'Cause I can't pretend;  
Don't you wanna be more than friends?_

It's very dramatic, and very appropriate, and it hits close enough that it gets them grinning wider, just this side of laughing, as they alternate between being able to look each other in the eye and, y'know. Not.

"I bet you know something about soul shakin'," Dean says, half-delirious, half-confident that it's a suave thing to say, and Cas tilts his head, smiling with one side of his mouth.

"That's right."

With two words, Cas is a thousand times cooler than Dean could ever hope to be, and it sends a shiver through him that has him clinging a little tighter, and Cas clinging a little tighter back, until Cas's hair is tickling his ear, and his breath is hot against his neck, and Dean's heart could thud out of his body and onto the dance floor right here. But he doesn't want it to. He has to make it to the end of the night at least.

**+**

He's made it to the end of the night, and now he feels like he might throw up _and_ have a heart attack, though he isn't sure in which order.

They talk or something on their way to Cas's house, music playing quietly on the radio, but Dean doesn't think either one of them is really hearing it because they keep doing that smile-and-look-away thing until they stop looking away so quickly, and Dean can feel Cas watching him as he pulls into his driveway.

"Thanks for coming with me." Dean turns to see Cas already undoing his seatbelt. "I'm sorry about--"

Cas slides across the seat until he's close enough that Dean can smell his shampoo again, but he stops before they touch; his eyes are on Dean's face, on his lips, and Dean feels them part. Cas leans in then, and Dean cups his face, and they're kissing in his car, the front porch light casting them in yellow shadow as their mouths press together, hot and wanting.

"I've been thinking about that for long enough," Cas breathes against his lips, and Dean murmurs a semi-intelligible response before he leans in for more, twisting to get closer. They lose themselves in the tangle of their mouths, making out like they _are_ teenagers who can't just go-the-fuck-inside, but Dean's hot all over, and inside feels fucking far away.

Cas leans back and Dean tries to follow, but Cas sets his fingers on his shoulder, stopping him, and reaches down to undo Dean's seatbelt. The click seems loud, the slide of the belt louder because Cas doesn't just let it go; he holds onto it and slides it back into place, bringing Dean into his arms, and Dean swallows with a click of his own.

The kiss starts up again, but they're tangled up so much in each other that it's hard to say who's doing what, whose tongue pushed the kiss deeper first, whose hand started pulling at clothing first. Cas curls his fingers around Dean's arm and tugs him sideways, out from behind the steering wheel, until they're crammed in the middle of the seat, legs pressed together, hands sliding over each other as they adjust angles.

Dean gets Cas's shirt out from where it was nerdily tucked into his jeans, and Cas thumbs over buttons on Dean's shirt until he can reach in and drag nails over his chest, enough to have Dean inhaling sharply.

"Should we--?"

But Cas shushes him with a hard kiss and a hand on Dean's thigh, heat radiating through the fabric as it slides higher.

"You're right where I want you," Cas murmurs into Dean's ear.

His thumb brushes over Dean's fly, and Dean's hips nearly jerk right off the seat; very suave.

"Yes?" Cas's voice is a whisper, but Dean feels it all the way down his body, and he nods. Cas's lips move in a smile against his ear. "Good." It's just one word, but Cas says it with a weight that sends another ripple through him.

And now Dean is losing his mind in the front seat of his car as Cas fumbles with his fly. Dean's throat is dry, and he leans his head back and takes a second to breathe some air that doesn't smell like Cas.

"We're really going to do this in the car?" he asks, but Cas just smiles darkly at him and tugs at Dean's hips so he can pull down his jeans. "Should've said something sooner. I'd have driven us to some Makeout Point."

"If I'd said something sooner, I would've told you to wear panties," is the next thing Cas says that breaks Dean's brain, and then his hand is on Dean's cock, and Dean's faced with the fact that this is the hottest thing he's done with a real, live person in a long, long time, even as he gets his foot caught up in one of the pedals.

Cas slides his palm over the pre-come on the head of his cock and drags it down his shaft and then again, thumbing over the slit, pumping slowly to start, and Dean loses himself to it until he remembers that he has hands too, and he ought to be using them. Right? Fair's fair. He fumbles his hand up Cas's thigh and closes his hand around the outline of his cock, rock-hard and straining, and relishes in the hitch in Cas's breath. He nips at Dean's ear, his hand stilling on Dean's cock.

"Not tonight," he says. Dean tries to look at him, but Cas gently squeezes, and he stops. "Later. For now, hands to yourself."

Dean wonders if this is real. Is this real? Or is he really asleep on his desk back at the office and he's going to wake up with an unfortunate mess to deal with? He swallows, and then he takes his hand back and sets it on his own leg, fingers pressing in.

Cas starts moving his hand again, but it's when he bites the shell of Dean's ear, trails his tongue down it, sucks at his earlobe, breathes, "Good boy," that Dean fucking loses it, head tossed back, hips straining up, and he realizes in a sudden rush that it's because he's _coming_ , and it's been all of five minutes. It's electric though, stars behind his eyes and everything, and he might wake up tomorrow with five fingertip bruises on his own knee.

"Fuck," he mutters, and Cas laughs softly.

"Soul shaking?"

"Fuck," he confirms, and scrubs a hand over his eyes. "Sorry. I swear I have more stamina than that."

"No, it really rounds out the high school experience." Dean opens one eye to find Cas smiling at him.

"Smartass. S'napkins in the dash."

Cas hums his thanks and opens it with one hand, but he lifts the other to his mouth and starts licking himself clean, almost absentmindedly, and Dean's sure now-- _now_ is the moment he's going to wake up. But Cas finishes cleaning himself with the napkins and turns to Dean, and Dean watches as he methodically cleans him up, even helping Dean back into his pants.

"Are we really not gonna...?" Dean reaches toward Cas but stops, hand hovering. Cas grins and catches it with his own, tangling their fingers.

"No." He leans in and kisses Dean, slower and softer than before, promising something; he draws back and starts reassembling himself. "We needed to get that out of our system."

Dean lifts his head, concerned about the past tense in that sentence.

"We did?"

Cas opens the car door, but he turns back to Dean with a predatory smile. "Next time, I can really take my time."

And that's how Dean graduates to Sex Education 201: Practical Applications.

**Author's Note:**

> Song is "Don't Let Go (Love)" by En Vogue. An additional unwritten scene: Becky snapping pictures of Dean and Cas on the dance floor, for the 'gram.


End file.
